Distortions In Time: The Untold Tales
by kakashidiot
Summary: These are the untold tales of of "Distortions In Time" - a journey to other worlds and places and scenes not yet shown in the epic tale of Loki. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.
1. Lessons From Stone

**These are the untold tales of my epic tale (as yet unfinished), Distortions In Time. To understand these stories in FULL, you may want to start there. Still, they may be enjoyable as standalones and I hope you like them. As thanks for reviewing, this story was sent to reviewers who reviewed chapter 20 and onward of my fic. Chapter 40 and onward will get a second piece I'm working on at present. If you wish to be one of the number who gets the side story ahead of time, review on Distortions In Time~ ****  
**

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**[IMPORTANT!]**

**Author's Note: This tale fits in around the time that Loki was known as the Vaetki and was living in the Gothahus as a very young child. I really wanted to write this story to show the humanity (as it were) of the Jotunn and how their mode of life is as sociable and civilized (in a sense) as ours is... if sometimes cruel and harsh. Glossary for words are on the bottom.**

**Note on Jotunn culture: Sires are the "mothers" of the Jotunn. Inheritance and the like are passed from "mother" to child. I use the term "mother" loosely because that is the Jotunn who actually births the baby. The Jotunn are, in fact, neither male nor female in my story. XD**

**Characters: Byleistr, Helblindi, Laufey, Farbauti**

* * *

**Distortions In Time: The Untold Tales**

**Side Story One:  
Lessons From Stone**

**[...the skies of Jotunheim are empty...]**

**[...but this morning is stirred...]**

**[...can you hear it?...]**

"'Blindi!"

A pause. An indistinguishable sound – somewhere between a moan and a grunt of protest. Scuffling. Then, another tug. Another shove.

"'Blindi! 'Blindi! It is time!"

Helblindi, Crown Prince of Jotunheim, First Son of Farbauti Orkalsson, groaned as he turned in his bed of snow and found a softer spot, pulling his thick fur blanket up over his head.

"'Blindi!" The light voice was exasperated now. "Wake up! WAKE UP!"

Without warning, his blanket was torn away and hands, colder than usual, uncomfortably laid hold of his feet. Growling, the young Jotunn sat up and kicked away at his would-be attacker, striking blindly – before realizing that it was in fact a rather hurt looking Byleistr, who had fallen back and was now nursing an arm and trying to suppress tears. Helblindi sighed.

"Bylla," he rolled his eyes. "What did I tell you about waking me up – you need to be smarter than just grabbing me by the feet!"  
"The last time I shook you awake by your shoulders, you hit me in the face – with your fist!" The younger Jotunn protested, giving Helblindi a wounded look. "And you have fists like rocks! Everyone says so. I know so!"  
"Sorry," Helblindi grumbled petulantly. "I can not help being strong."  
"You always say that..."  
"Because it is reality. I will always be older. I will always be smarter and stronger."  
"Father says you should know better," pouted Byleistr.

The older brother threw his fur blanket aside. It had been sewn by Farbauti himself – the first fur blanket for his first child – a grey and black monstrosity, Father had called it – the finest wolf-hide sewn with the worst stitches. Farbauti had blushed deep purple-blue then and shook his head in embarrassment.

"As if your sewing skills were any better!" he had chuckled.  
"Father sewed a blanket too?" Byleistr had asked with his usual curiosity. "For whom?"  
"No one," Laufey had said quickly. "No one. Come, eat your fish."

Helblindi knew better than to pursue the subject. His Father's voice had been warning enough – and considering the War and everything, it would be no surprise if accidents such as an early miscarriage happened. Such was the hard life allotted to the Jotunn race. So he said nothing and ate his fish and forgot.

Now, he looked at the blanket and remembered. Remembered the day he first saw Byleistr wrapped in the finest cloth Jotunheim could offer for its second Prince – and saw the blanket in the chest which would eventually be given to his brother – white and grey and with better stitching. Byleistr still slept beneath it every night – and his bed was still a carefully carved jarnvithr cot – for his skin had not yet begun to toughen, nor was there any sign of molting to be seen on his head which still held the usual dark curls passed down from Laufey. Helbindi's hair had been smooth and straight at first, like Farbauti's, but now it was shorn close to his head in preparation for molting. Molting and Budding and eventually becoming a full-fledged adult. Like all Jotunn younglings, the Crown Prince looked forward to the day with excitement... and trepidation. _Soon, I will put my blanket away, or give it to one in need, he thought, but not today. _

_Not today._

_Today_, Helblindi recalled, _is the day I had promised to take Byleistr hunting._ A few youths at the Court had been laughing at the young Prince about the fact that he had not yet shown any interest in pursuing the more physical activities demanded of growing Jotunn younglings. While Helblindi privately agreed that his younger brother was as annoying as a jarnvithr splinter in his foot – and at the best of time was an aggravating know-it-all – disrespecting the King's son could not be tolerated. After the boys had learned their lesson thanks to Helblindi's hard fists, the older brother had taken his younger sibling aside and talked to him.

"Things will go better with you if you make at least an attempt."  
"But – but – whenever I wish to join you, you tell me to run off and read my books – you called me a baby and said you did not wish me to sl-slow you down," Byleistr had managed to work out between barely stifled sobs.  
"Well," Helblindi had said. Then paused and glared at the sky before answering the gentle accusation. "Well... so I did. Bylla. I am sorry... and it is true that I do not wish you to join us in all activities. For you are small – still – and less inclined to – well – you know you are clumsy."  
"As are you!"  
"Yes, but I have less chance of being mauled by a wolf – or – or trampled by a jarnkottr than you are."  
"Oh."  
"Hm. Still, there is something we could do."  
"What is that?" Byleistr had looked up at his brother, red eyes wide and hopeful.  
"We could take a small trip to the top of Tveir-Tindr and find us a wolf to hunt down and slay and bring back as your trophy."  
"Is that not... dishonourable – to say I slew a wolf and you did it for me?"  
"No – no – you would slay it yourself. Then, then, we would show it to the others – as proof that one day, you will be an groa-thurs."

Byleistr had grown excited at the prospect and had extracted a promised date from his older brother. _And today is that day_, sighed Helblindi, wishing he had found his bed sooner the evening before. _How did I forget?_

"Well? Well?" Byleistr sat up, forgetting the growing bruise on his arm. "Are we to go – or..." He paused with horrified realization. His high voice wavered. "Or not?"  
"We will go," sighed Helblindi scrubbing his face with an unsteady hand. "Go to your room and get your cloak and your pack ready. Meet me at the back gate in half an hour's span."  
"I am ready." Byleistr rose to his feet and patted at his best leather kilt proudly.  
"Hardly. You know what will happen," Helblindi rose to his feet and loomed over his much shorter brother. "You will get halfway up and complain of the cold. To your room! Get your cloak. Do as I say. And quickly! Else Tutor Rokavi will be here and keeping us busy all day."

Those were the magic words – and within minutes, Byleistr was gone, his feet barely making a sound on the well-swept, beautifully carved marble floors of the Royal estate found in Gastropnir. It was a large place – with gilded black, grey, blue and white stone, traditionally lined with the linear, gigantic sculpting of long ago. On the far side of the small palace, an equally glorious Hall stood in which his Father, Laufey-King presided. Helblindi dreamed of the day he could stand at his Father's side and take part in the Council meetings. Until then, the young Crown Prince knew he would have to work hard to prove his worth to Laufey-King – prove his responsibility, wit, strategy and abilities.

_But not today_, Helblindi thought grimly as he quickly bathed himself in the cold spring which had been channeled throughout the house, double-checked his pack for supplies, grabbed his two favourite bow and arrows and triple-checked the skies from his balcony. T_oday, is the day Byleistr begins the path to Jotunhood. To groa-thurs._

-0-0-0-

It was easy to slip away from the Palace and then the quiet, still mostly sleeping city of Gastropnir, mainly because the two young Jotunn knew the habits, the practices and the routines of the daily lives of the commoners and could easily navigate the emptiest and quickest routes to the West Gate. Out the West Gate they slipped, knowing that the night before Guard Ikuo had no doubt spent too long hours throwing dice and drinking and was no doubt, head on his fists, sleeping at his post. He was – just outside the gate and to the right. Tiptoeing past, the two Princes left the road almost immediately and made their way with great speed across the fair-sized ice-fields found to the west of the city.

Gastropnir was fairly prosperous town, cradled by the Grarfjall mountains. When the hated Aesir had come through taking the main road to Utgard, they had burned part of Gastropnir down and had destroyed many buildings and large swaths of blakkrgrass and other herb fields found around it. Restoration had taken time and resources – neither of which the Jotun had in plenty – and yet, somehow, they had banded together and found a way. Farbauti, having taken his sons to Dagaheim, never saw the full extent of the destruction, and the two boys barely remembered the Great War – but they lived with the effects of it everyday.

Helblindi, at least, could recall the days when his parents went out to war, when his Sire had returned wounded once, and another time his Father had taken to lying down for long periods of time with some illness. Farbauti had shaken his head over the extensive use of the Kero Fornvetr – and had drawn his eldest son away from the flickering blue box. _The Casket_, Helblindi shivered. _It disappeared that day – with the Aesir. And neither they or nor it has returned. Yet, we are still here. Gastropnir is still here... and beyond..._

He shifted uneasily at the thought – and decided to focus on Byleistr instead. Young Byleistr who trotted at his side, pack on his back, looking determined. Helblindi smiled. _This would be a day to remember for the both of them._

-0-0-0-

At first, the day went by rather uneventfully. Reaching the edge of a sparse jarnvithr forest which clung to the lower reaches of the mountains, Helblindi and Byleistr took a short break and, opening Byleistr's pack which he had carefully packed with food, partook of a light breakfast of fish and black bread. Then they picked their way through empty bracken, amidst an eerily silent forest and made their way to the main path which would take them up the Tveir-Tindr mountain, so named for its peculiar double peak. Like the mountain range it belonged to, Tveir-Tindr was home to the grarulfr – grey wolves who held the western portion of the Innaheim within their thrall.

Here, no wildlife stirred – hidden from the sight of the intruding Jotunn and grarulfr alike. _But then_, Byleistr thought as he trudged behind his brother up the rocky path, glad that he had pulled on his hardy leather and jarnvithr-soled boots. _But then, Father says most of the land is too quiet these days..._

Pushing away a lock of black hair which had fallen in front of his eyes for the tenth time, Byleistr made a mental note to ask his Sire if he could get his hair cut again. _Maybe I can get Mother - I mean, Sire, to let me cut it as short as Helblindi. I would look more adult then_, he grimaced as they passed yet another tree bearing the marks of grarulfr claws. A sure sign of marking territory. _He will not allow you though... Mother – Sire – says you look fine with longer hair._ Byleistr sighed.

Looking about the unnervingly quiet forest, Byleistr shivered. Rarely did he leave the confines of the city, more happy to remain within its safe walls – and even better, within the safe walls of the Royal Library, reading books about lands with green plants and flying birds and vicious dragons and fair-haired children. _This is a different world_, he mused, _and it does not feel happy to see us at all. Which isn't surprising..._ The young Prince added philosophically. _Jotunheim does not feel happy in general – if Father is right... and the people are struggling to even find food, much less money... and Tutor Rokavi says that the Heart of the Realm is gone and the land is dying... Not that Father would agree. And 'Blindi says I mustn't ask him about it. _

Byleistr sighed. The world was a confusing place, and with more time spent within it, the young Jotunn had a feeling that things would not get clearer.

"'Blindi," he said, feeling that things were too quiet by half.  
"Hm."  
"When will we get there?"  
"You are asking me that already?"  
"Well," huffed the younger Jotunn. "It is a fair question. We have been walking a fair amount-"  
"Bylla! The sun has hardly risen to the mid-day position! We will get to the top just in time for lunch – given that we do not find a trail to follow. Remember, this is not about reaching the top. It is about finding a wolf's hide to bring home."  
"Right. I remember."

Byleistr glared at 'Blindi's back and wished that his brother was not so right all the time. He sighed. And followed his brother as they wandered this way and that up the small mountain.

-0-0-0-

Despite his younger brother's assurances that he was just fine with walking all day, Helblindi knew that Byleistr had a limit. _He is used to reading and sitting about and enjoying the comfort of fire and warm blankets and Sire's tender care_, Helblindi reminded himself when he found himself wanting to snap at the lagging energy of Byleistr. _Still young. Still... soft. _

Helblindi chuckled to himself softly then. _I sound like Father._

"What?"  
"Never you mind," Helblindi shook his head, brushing off Byleistr's inquiry.  
"Are you laughing at me?" Red eyes scowled up at him. A pout was forming.  
"No, Bylla," he sighed. "It is not all about you, you know."  
"I did not say it was – nor did I insinuate that it was."  
"Truly? It sounded like it."  
"That is because you have moss in your ears."  
"Moss?"  
"Moss. It is a green growing thing. In Vanaheim. And Asgard."  
"Moss," Helblindi had to chuckle again, his rumble grating like small stones. One day, it would turn deeper. One day. Soon. "Moss."  
"Now you are laughing at me."  
"Who speaks of things that do not exist?"  
"They exist!"  
"In Vanaheim and Asgard!"  
"And they exist!"  
"But not in Jotunheim."  
"Just because it does not grow in Jotunheim, does not mean it does not exist."  
"True, but if it has no place in Jotunheim, it is no concern of ours."  
"'It is thinking such as that," Byleistr sniffed, "that leads to close-minded, short-term thinking which will send Jotunheim to an early grave.'"  
"You are quoting Councillor Dukla! You know what Father thinks of him."  
"I am not!"

But he was. Nothing more was said for a long time – and so, when Helblindi caught sight of a trail – he felt relieved. Motioning to Byleistr to tread even more softly, Helblindi crept forward, bent almost double, his sharp eyes catching the unmistakable signs of bent blargras and tunglblom.

"What is it?" Byleistr asked in a breathless whisper.  
"Size of a wolf," he replied in kind, "and injured... or there might be more than one. And new by at least two days, judging by the cleanness of the print. We must proceed with caution."

With that, the two continued onward – and followed through the snow and trees, around boulders, over crevices and small hills, up a small mountain spur and down into a dale. A good time passed until they reached it – a cozy depression in the ground, a large rotten jarnvithr with a hole in the middle – and an obvious tunnel reaching underground. A wolf's den – but the wolves were gone and before it, a small pack of wolf pups tumbled over each other, worrying at the meat of a snaerharra while two mothers looked on.

Byleistr slid down by Helblindi and peered in. For a moment, the two of them looked on – and after a while, Helblindi glanced down at his brother's face. _This is going to be a problem,_ he thought, as he caught sight of Byleistr's face – a mass of excitement and sadness and a growing look of shame. When smaller, sadder red eyes finally found the courage to meet larger, harder ones, the short youngling shook his head and then looked off into the forest mutely. With a sigh, tapping his brother on his shoulder and jerking his head, Helblindi soundlessly rose and backed away until the two were a good ways away, keeping carefully downwind from the wolves' den.

"Tell me what you thinking," Helblindi said, folding his arms and looking down at Byleistr. "Be honest."  
"I do not... I did not..."  
"Say it."  
"I do not wish to kill a wolf pup... it-it-it would only make me a laughing-stock at any rate."  
"We could take one of the mothers."  
"No!" Byleistr said vehemently and then both of his hands rose, covering his traitorous lips below horrified eyes which had widened at the realization that his true feelings had slipped out. "I mean-"  
"Well, at least you are honest."  
"Yet, now I am truly what they say... a coward..."  
"Hm. During any other season, on any other day, perhaps," Helblindi agreed thoughtfully. "Yet our Sire said that to cherish life is no weakness at all."

Byleistr's head rose hopefully at Helblindi's conversational tone.

"So we will not kill the wolf today?"  
"The mothers? No. Hm. It is perhaps only right to tell you that it would be frowned upon at any rate. You see, this is the season for pups to be raised by their clans – and killing mothers is discouraged. For this season, at any rate. Only to ensure the continued survival of the wolves, you understand – a husbanding as it were of one of Jotunheim's remaining animals."  
"I see," Byleistr replied gravely – and with obvious relief. "Then... another day we can return?"  
"Certainly. We will get you a fine father – or brother – wolf to slay and return with."  
"That is a promise?"  
"A promise."  
"Then... what now?"  
"Well," Helblindi scratched his stubbled scalp. Then, he grinned, "We still have time. There is the rest of the mountain to climb. A better goal for you, I think, my lazy young scholar."  
"I am not lazy! And scholars are not lazy!"  
"True, but you are lazy – even if scholars are not – come, let us continue upwards from here. We have a mountain peak to conquer if nothing else."

And so they did.

-0-0-0-

On the westward peak they chose to climb, there was only enough room to sit and eat more of their packed food – ice berries, dried fish and eel, more black bread and a gelatin Farbauti was fond of sampling. It was also Byleistr's favourite. As he polished off the last of it, the young Jotunn looked about.

To his right lay mountains, beyond which he knew stretched forest – the Mykryr Forest he had travelled through when he was a babe, carried on Farbauti's back when they moved from Dagaheim to Gastropnir. Behind him, was the wide spaces of the heart of Innaheim: the plains and hills which surrounded the city he currently called home – and beyond, split by the roads which stretched east-wet, flat plains of grass and other cultivated fields of destitute farmers. Much, much further, there was Griotunagardar hard by the spacious fish-filled Gnottvatn Lake, just before the Kaldrfjall Mountains. To his left, was more of the same and far, far beyond, if he strained his eyes, Byleistr could imagine that he saw the banks of the wide-flowing Holdra River.

Tutor Rokavi had told him that the stories said it had been carved during a magickal battle between two Jotunn mages. So great was their magic, he said, it split the very land of Jotunheim and like a scar that healed and brought something new, water sprang up as an everlasting testament to their abilities. _To have such magick_, Byleistr thought of his own scant abilities, _would be a gift and a burden at the same time. _

Turning his eyes away from the mark of greatness, the youngling eyed what lay before him – a vista of mountains – the Grarfjall. Below them, they could see the main road winding westward.

"The road leading to Utgard," Helblindi said quietly.  
"I know," Byleistr said, shuffling through the snow until he reached the rock of the mountain. It was barer of snow during the Jotunheim "spring" season and soon enough he had found a size-able curious round rock with an jagged opening in one side. He tried to peer within it – but it remained dark and mysterious. "I can read, you know."  
"I know," Helblindi rolled his eyes and tossed another rock off the mountain. There was no sound. Byleistr wondered if it would continue bouncing down the side of the mountain and hit some innocent merchant in passing (and at this, he laughed) – or if it would get caught in some crevice along the way. "I just had to say it. To remind myself."  
"You remember it?"  
"Utgard?"  
"Hm."  
"Yes," Helblindi said. "It was a great city. Grand. With dark stone and grey marbling and architecture so heaven-bound, it seemed to rise up and up – forever."  
"But it is not like that anymore, Tutor Rokavi said."  
"Yes, it is but a shadow of its glory... and I hope I can change that. One day."  
"You will need money," Byleistr threw another stone out. It did not appear to go out as far as Helblindi and he cursed his weakness mentally. "Money and much resources if you intend to rebuild it."  
"Of course. I know that. I also read, if you remember."  
"I am merely ensuring that your high hopes have some grounding in reality," Byleistr said snottily, watching Helblindi's rock disappear further out – again.  
"Here, let me have that rock-"  
"No!" Byleistr hugged the round rock he had found to himself. "I am keeping this. I – I – I wish to observe it."  
"Observe a rock?" Helblindi asked skeptically.  
"Well, yes... It is a curious treasure. I found it, so I can keep it."  
"It is dirty thing. Rocks should be thrown. Or heaved."  
"Some rocks are carved-"  
"Now, this conversation is getting dull," Helblindi rose.  
"You are saying that because I was right."  
"Bylla," Helblindi sighed. "Just... Never mind. Let us go. The suns are moving westward – we need to make the walls before nightfall – or..."

Both boys flinched at the thought of the hiding they would receive if they did not return in time. With this in mind, Byleistr packed up hurriedly, making certain his rock was secured at the bottom of his pack – away from Helblindi's careless hands and knowing eyes. _It is a good memory to keep_, Byleistr thought.

"So what are you going to do with that dull, grey rock of yours? Put it above your bed? On that shelf of yours?"  
"Maybe," Byleistr replied stiffly. "Maybe not."  
"Hm. I know that is what you will do."  
"Why do you say that?"  
"You always do things like that. You remember that time we went to Gnottvatn for the summer and hunted eels – you kept the skeleton of the first eel you gutted – and your skewer!"  
"What-"  
"Do not think I did not see it. I did."  
"'Blindi!" Pause. "Stop laughing!"  
"I will laugh if I choose. And if you deserve it."  
"I do not deserve it! Just because you do not collect memories does not-"  
"Ha! So it is a case of collecting a memory! I knew it- OW!"

Byleistr had thrown a snowball at the back of Helblindi's head. If a few bits of ice had made their way into it, that was not his fault.

"Byla! There was ice in there!"  
"I was just checking to see how tough your skin has gotten-"  
"You said that last week when you poked me with the cook's fire iron!"  
"That was last week – oh!"

Helblindi had returned the favour (without ice). The rest of the journey was made at a quicker pace – and it was twice as enjoyable, fighting and bickering aside.

For that is what siblings do. That is what they are – for all of time.

As they made their way out of the forest and across the fields, they saw the gates of Gastropnir rising in the distance – and the yellow of warm lights and sparse fires and the faint blue and purple glow of rare crystal lamps, which had survived the War. The two Princes drew closer.

The gates gained definition – gained metallic grating and warped wood slats and intricately wrought locks which ran up and down the entire middle of it. Locks they knew secured it safely from the inside from the night terrors of the Grarfjall Mountains. And the Aesir. Drawing closer, Byleistr and Helblindi could make out the new guard for the evening – and two familiar figures: Laufey and Farbauti. Setting their shoulders and raising their chins, the two young Jotunn forged onward, making their way over ice and snow and blakkrgras.

As the two drew near, Helblindi relaxed a little – judging by Laufey's expression, there was a scolding up ahead, but nothing serious. Underneath the annoyance was a not-so-well-hidden pride.

Farbauti was definitely more anxious, but his face lit up at the apparent health of his youngest and Byleistr felt his chest puff out just a bit more proudly underneath his rough black cloak. He had gone out – and on an unsanctioned jaunt to boot. Furthermore, he had tracked a wolf to its den, had climbed a mountain and taken a piece of treasure, however grey and dirty, Helblindi thought it. At the sight of Farbauti's obvious relief and joy, Byleistr knew what his evening would entail: a large dinner and a light scolding.

Then he would tell his story. Farbauti would cluck and shake his head and praise him for his kindness and intelligence and would gave him a dire look upon hearing of his bickering with Helblindi and how they threw rocks on merchants' heads from a great height. Then, Byleistr would take out his stone and show his Sire what he had brought back – which Farbauti would praise.

It went as expected. Almost.

That night, Farbauti turned the rock over and over in his hands before giving Byleistr and odd look. Without warning, he leaned forward to rap it sharply against the floor, splitting it jaggedly in half. Byleistr cried out in disappointment – and then blinked at the green which glittered, now revealed. Green gems, groensteinn, hidden within!

Farbauti smiled, "Now, that is a great treasure to place on your shelf – and a grand prize to show to the others as proof of your quest."

"But... I did not slay a wolf. Helblindi says that slaying a wolf is a great deed."  
"There will always be wolves to slay, but this is much rarer," Farbauti said in appeasement, ruffling Byleistr's dark hair. "Trust me."  
"Very well... Helblindi said it was a useless grey rock and should just be thrown. Ha! This will show him!"  
"Indeed... it is amazing to me," Farbauti smiled softly, "how the small things, the seemingly ugly things or the plain hold great treasures within. One should never judge a being by its appearance."  
"You think so?" asked Byleistr tentatively.  
"I know so. There is beauty in everything – if you have the eye for it. And I know you can see such treasures in many things."  
"Treasures like these?"  
"Yes. And this is a treasure. For you may not know – but this was born out of magick – during the foundation of this Realm, when there was nothing but light and matter and our land coalesced as all the others did alongside it... and over time, water ran inside the stones and built up such glorious gems, bearing magick preserved since the beginning. A glorious picture of a happier time, I think," Farbauti cradled the halves in hand before setting them on Byleistr's smaller lap and watching the glow move slowly across the small face at his elbow. "The Time of Ancient Winters – that is a great thing to remember – and the uncounted years before."  
"The time when the Casket was made?"  
"When it was born... Yes..."  
"It was born?" Byleistr's bright eyes glinted as he sensed a story. Quickly he set the glowing gems on his shelf, watching the light play on the dim ceiling above – and then he trapped Farbauti by crawling onto his Mother's – Sire's – larger lap. "How can stone be born?"

Farbauti laughed, knowing when he had been bested. Byleistr had always had the sense to think things through before others even started.

"Well, hm, let us see – it began during the Forgotten Time, the years and years and years we do not count – and when we began to count–"  
"During the Ancient Times," Byleistr recited encouragingly.  
"Yes, during the Ancient Times, they say – the stories say, traditions tells of a great people who learned how to harness the magicks of Jotunheim which swirled freely in the air and settled within the very water and land itself. And thus, one day, a Jotunn whose name we no longer remember was crossing the far northward land of the Utanheim – the Mornathbjoth, when he saw-"

And Farbauti's voice drifted off into the night of Jotunheim, where the wolves' howled with the wind and their voices mingled on empty planes.

**[...for the skies of Jotunheim are empty...]**

**[...and empty they remain...]**

**[...for all time...]**

**[...unless...]**

* * *

**Let me know what you think!**

Vocabulary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar  
groa-thurs – grown giant  
groensteinn – a green gem

hafnathr – sea serpents  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)  
Tveir-Tindr – Double Peak mountain.

ulfrbarn - wolf child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	2. First Days

Summary: These are the untold tales of of "Distortions In Time" - a journey to other worlds and places and scenes not yet shown in the epic tale of Loki. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Author's Note 1: This side-story fits just before the start of Chapter 33.**

Author's Note 2: As a young child, I lived for four years in the Middle East and as an adult I've been living for five years in China – and I can now say that culture shock is an interesting beast (even more so, reverse culture shock). It doesn't happen to me so much, but it's interesting to see how it shows itself in my friends and others around me. Haha. So this story is written in a little different style – with a mixed-up line of narration and no linear plot. You will see what I mean. This is a very topical treatise and not my usual style for "DiT" but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

**Characters: Loki, Thor, Warriors Three, Sif**

**21 FREAKING PAGES. THAT'S IT FOLKS. I'M DONE!**

* * *

**Distortions In Time: The Untold Tales**

Side Story Two:  
First Days

**[...the seedling struggles upward...]**

**[...to find the rays of the sun...]**

**[...and breaking into the blue sky...]**

**[...it unfurls and blossoms...]**

**[...struggles to survive...]**

_Today_, Kol'la wrote in the small leather bound journal he had brought with him from Sharda'aa, _begins a new life. What shall it bring, I wonder? Each new world I find myself upon, I struggle to understand, to accept – to bend beneath as black grass does before the great winds which passes over – and in bending, they – I – do not break. Yet, I feel as though this may be a whole new level of challenge. We shall see what time brings forth._

Kol'la was more right than he knew.

**- Sun (Part I – The Rays) -**

The sun was close to setting when Kol'la arrived on Asgard, yet thanks to his seemingly endless existence within the artificial surroundings of the mining colony and Sharda'aa, the young man found himself squinting in the bright golden light as he followed his escorts down the Bifrost and into the centre of Asgard's capital.

_Light_, Kol'la thought incoherently as he passed between gleaming colonnades, glittering gold and shining silver wreathing everything in overdecorated filigree and sun rays glistening on the clear waters of the wide city waterfall which rushed in its various rivers down from the mountains and plunged into the sea below the Bifrost. Everything seemed to have its own glow as if luminous from the inward out and Kol'la's green eyes flinched away from the brightness of it all.

The following morning, his eyesight adjusted a little easier as he followed the others in their daily routine of washing faces and hands, combing back hair and finding their way to the long table trestles where breakfast was served. It was early – and the sky was slowly suffused with pink and warm orange as the sun took its time getting out of bed – and Kol'la found himself put to work learning the intricacies of horse and animal care as well as his other duties.

Several days later, the new stable hand found himself under the heat of the afternoon shovelling manure from the pig-pen behind the secondary stables. Sweat trickled down his bared back as he worked his way around the large pen currently devoid of the fat, porky animals which had been released into a field lying further beyond. At first, the sun felt oddly gentle on his back, but over time, Kol'la began to feel the pressure of the heat fall even more heavily on his shoulders, as if it the rays were an actual burden set there. Tension radiated throughout his body and an odd tightness spread throughout his skin.

"Kol'la, well met!"

It was Thor. Kol'la looked around and, swiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, frowned, now rather annoyed at the interruption – at how Thor's voice resonated with a sudden increasingly painful headache and at how the black strands of his hair stuck to his face, heavy with sweet and dirt.

"Ah! There you are!" the Prince vaulted over the low pen fence and strode over to clasp Kol'la warmly on the shoulders.  
"AH!" Kol'la stiffened as pain shot down from Thor's hand, vibrating through suddenly sensitive skin. "Oh-"  
"Kol'la?" Thor's face fell and then wrinkled with worry as his friend swayed a little. "Kol'la – Kol'la!"

That was the last thing Kol'la heard.

**- Food -**

The tall, slender lad eyed the wide table before him uncertainly. Stirring uneasily on his rough wooden seat, Kol'la looked about, eyeing the other stable hands who dug in boisterously for the early morning meal. He looked down again at the platters placed along the table which he knew he would have to reach for. _This style of communal eating is not so unfamiliar to you_, the new stable hand of Asgard told himself. _Yet... and yet..._

And yet.

It looked strange to his eyes – the flat white eggs, the unevenly cut slices of bread which had been toasted over the fire with long metal forks, the stacks of unknown red-brown and black meat, the small bowls of odd round-shaped brown vegetables (he assumed) and the various kinds of drink of which he could partake. There was some kind of tea – dark and strong. Another lighter kind. Water. Milk. And a drink they called 'mead' (an alcohol, he presumed, remembering Thor's boasting of how many pints he could down in a single sitting), which apparently was allowed for breakfast. _Strange._ The oils and spicings were dull to his taste and within minutes, Kol'la knew that getting used to the food would be a bit more difficult than he thought previously.

He sighed.

This was going so well. Already.

**- The Stables -**

The stables became the world for Kol'la, scaled down to several grand spans of cobblestone and row upon row of intricately carved stable doors and high-ceilings of the stables for the Royal string. Here, the purebreds of Asgard lived out their days in comfort, interspersed with glorious adventures, courtesy of Thor and his flock of witless followers – or the King's Guards. Here, Kol'la laboured, learning the hard way how to protect his weapon-hardened hands for the more manual, tedious labour of the pitchfork, the hoe, the shovel and the rake.

It was a job that only brought Kol'la fatigue and boredom – and other daily annoyances brought by the fat, black flies which hovered about him as he moved piles of shat from one place to another, by the stinging wasps and whirring bugs, and by the heedless, disobedient farm animals which often escaped their pens and wandered about.

_I can already tell_, he wrote in his journal, _that this life is not for me. If there was any question about whether this was my calling, four days of hard labour have answered it for me – the rest of my life cannot be spent here. Surely, this will drive to me to madness before the end of my days._

**- Stable Hands -**

"Ah," laughed Iortha, slapping Kol'la heartily (and painfully) on the back. "Just listen to him talk! He obviously has not yet seen Asgard at its finest!"  
"Well, considering how busy Commander Farfin has kept him," chuckled another stable hand, "that is no surprise."  
"I am aware of Asgard's greatness," Kol'la said coldly and carefully, leaning away from the too heavy, too hot grip of his supposed friends and work mates. "Word spreads throughout the Realms and the universe-"  
"As it should-"  
"-and speaks of Asgard's supremacy in no small words, yet, I would argue that there is no perfect world in the univ-"  
"Ahhh... now, Kol'la, that stinks of pessimism there-"  
"Let the boy find out the joys of this life in his own way," the more gentle Gwyar smiled. "Perhaps there is something out there that Asgard is missing out on-"  
"Highly unlikely," sniffed Kithur, "else we would have found it before now-"  
"-and made it better-" added Iortha, with a loud chortle. "Come, Kol'la, take this pint and drink that frown away. Surely the night is better spent smiling!"

Kol'la wondered, staring into the new pint of mead forced into his hand, if he could get away with murder in Asgard. _Probably not_, he sighed morosely, _considering that the Keeper of the Gate sees all_. Thus, Kol'la lost the argument as he was wont to do, only due to the sheer thick-headedness of his new-found "friends". Life in Asgard never seemed more burdensome.

_And it is only the second week_, Kol'la thought despairingly.

**- At the Pub -**

"The Red Dragon is the best place in which to find news," Thor had told Kol'la the night before, breath rather rancid with some fairly strong mead. "You must join us the next time we go there!"  
"When I have time, Thor," Kol'la had replied waspishly, trying to remove Thor's heavy bicep from around his neck (and failing). "Which I have little of, thanks to, you know, work."

Yet, a month later, Kol'la found himself dragged into the eastern part of the the capital and into a rather large, spacious, busy, obviously popular pub so labelled 'The Red Dragon'. The owners – a tall, hearty couple – bustled about toting large pints of mead and various imported cordials and wines from other Realms, the sight of which perked Kol'la's interest. That and the obvious foreigners who sat about the tables. Elves, Dwarves and other friendly aliens grouped about, discussing trade, politics and other matters common to all beings across the universe.

Within minutes, Thor was surrounded (_as was his wont_, Kol'la thought with a disgusted sigh) and Kol'la found himself on the periphery, listening into the tall tales which the traders, star-ship captains and other travellers spun for the Prince's willing ears. As each story unfolded, Kol'la found himself shaking his head with incredulity at how easily Thor appeared to agree with the men, to believe what they had to say.

_Asgard was the mightiest Realm in the entire universe_, the stories said. _It overshadowed all and was threatened by none. Other traders had different angles – the weakness of various planets ripe for the taking. Of bandits who roamed, begging to be punished for their wicked deeds. The ease with which they had just recently fought off a hoard on Planet Tylro-571 (an extremely fiery planet within a binary star system). How Thor could have fought them off in his sleep – how the bandits had fled to the neighbouring star system in the Unath region..._

And Kol'la saw before his eyes the seeds of interest within Thor's eyes – seeds growing and blossoming, until the idea lay ripe within his mind. This was the birthplace of Thor's quests. Leaning forward, massaging his eyes with a hand and slowly rubbing his forehead which now was threatening to burst forth with a headache, Kol'la wondered why he had decided to take on such an a friend with such obvious lack of commonsense.

_Does he not know they spout such lies to assuage his sense of pride? Does he not see they only wish to curry favour with the King's son? Can he so easily believe such tall tales – and so continue to overestimate his own abilities? Is this how he ended up as a slave on Sharda'aa? Does his father understand the consequences of allowing his son to gobble up such tales without any sense of direction from above?_

Kol'la suddenly wondered if Asgard's future was all that certain.

_We are doomed_, he sighed. _Doomed._

**- Food (Again) -**

Asgard had wonderful fruit, Kol'la had come to that firm decision. Wonderfully fresh fruit and vegetables, culled from the very gardens of the farms surrounding the outskirts of the city and brought in daily by farmers' sons and daughters. The meat, although not always well-spiced, was lean and well-cooked and Kol'la thought that, in all, Asgardian cuisine definitely provided a healthy balance for its citizens.

Yet, he grumbled to himself four days later at breakfast, _no variety... at all. None at all... and it looks like there will be none for the foreseeable future._ Kol'la sighed to himself softly, glancing about at the others who were heartily digging into their own helpings now stacked miles high upon their dark wood plates.

"And everything is served hot!" Kol'la found himself complaining to Thor six days later. "Is there nothing cool about to eat?"  
"Cool?" Thor blinked. "You mean food that is cold? Ah! Well, if you sneak into the Head Cook's pantry, there is always some cold mutton or-"  
"No, I mean... ices and such like – or raw fish-"  
"Do we look like savage Frost Giants?" Thor guffawed. "Things should be cooked. In the proper way... or you become ill."  
"On Sharda'aa-"  
"Ah," Thor shook his head sage, "but we are not on Sharda'aa anymore-"  
"I noticed," Kol'la bit out, "but surely Asgard could attempt to consider other ways of food preparation – cold things – sweet things-"  
"We have sweet things!" Thor protested. "You just wish for more than the usual!"  
"Just because you could live on meat alone-"  
"I do not live on meat alone-"  
"Ah – and what are you eating this afternoon-"  
"Well-"  
"Ha! See! I told you! Meat!"  
"Kol'la..." Thor sighed and at his long-suffering look, Kol'la subsided.  
"Never mind," the young stable hand said. "It matters not. It is only food."  
"Yes," Thor said, uncertainly, echoing Kol'la slowly. "Only food."

Later on, much later on, Kol'la found the things he could enjoy – and the memory of cool fish slices, alien spiced dishes and the sweet deserts of Sharda'aa faded with time, replaced by other, better things.

So he told himself.

**- All-Speech -**

Within the first week, Kol'la visited the Mage's Academy under the careful supervision of Commander Farfin who was suspicious of his underling's supposed penchant for the womanly arts of magick. Once there, Kol'la underwent a series of spells and charms (mysterious and full of magick, which impressed the young stable hand no end) which endowed him with Asgard's famed All-Speech.

"From now on," the mage said to Kol'la slowly and clearly (_as though I am stupid, which is rather insulting_, Kol'la thought), "you will understand any language within the universes and beyond."  
"That is a rather strong assertion to make," the stable hand had to say.  
"We are confident in the power of this charm, and it will stay with you until the end of your days," was the pompous reply, accompanied by a sharp glare at the obviously unimpressed newcomer before him. "Be grateful."  
"He is," Commander Farfin grunted. "Or he would be if he was fully aware of what this moment means, but you will have to forgive his ignorance-"  
"I know-"  
"We are going now," Farfin said quickly and dragged his precocious underling away before the lad got himself into trouble with his already legendary scathing tongue. "Blessings on you," he added vaguely before pushing Kol'la out the door and down the passageway.  
"But-" Kol'la tried to twist away (and failed), "I wished to see the place where the boulders revolve about-"  
"We are doing no such thing," Farfin bit out. "There is work to be done, young Kol'la. Time enough for that ergi nonsense later on."

With that, Kol'la was hustled out the Academy and onto the broad street before it. Wistfully gazing back, Kol'la wondered if he would ever find out the mysteries of the spells and charms chanted over him that day. _Having the All-Speech will be handy... Still_, he mused, _relying on All-Speech makes for a lazy scholar._ And Kol'la applied himself to learning Elvish (both Dark and Light variations), Dwarvish (similarly), High Asgardian and Low Midgardian.

There were days, when he heard the not so softly spoken whispers of 'ergi' muttered behind his back, that he wished he did not understand.

**- Food (Seriously When Do They Not Eat?) -**

_If I have to go to one more feast_, Kol'la wrote a month and a half after arrival in Asgard,_ I shall explode from the sheer weight of food which I have consumed. Never have I seen a race so enamoured with what they put in their mouths. At that double entendre, Kol'la smirked to himself – and then glared as he remembered he had yet another feast to attend the following week. Forget the food, he continued to write, pressing his quill a bit more harder than necessary onto the pages, the company alone is enough to make one commit suicide – due to the extreme stupidity shown when large groups of warriors and the such-like end up drunk together. _

_The amount of drunken wrestling and witless challenges I have witnessed and been party to is almost... criminal. Furthermore, the entertainment devolves from the mundane to the merely crass and moronic. _

_And even worse_, Kol'la sighed, setting down his pen, _if Thor is there – that is all I ever hear about. Thor this. Thor that. Thor killed some beast on some planet or in some Realm. Or he saved some maiden and bedded her for six hours straight or some such senseless tall tale. Ach! Where on Asgard can I find intelligent company? Surely there must be some kind of meal that involves thoughtful conversation devoid of alcoholic ramblings, dangerous feats of strength and public wenching?_

Kol'la considered "falling ill". _Lying is second nature to me_, he mused. _I could make such a ruse no one would know the falsity of it. _

He was seriously considering it.

**- Song and Dance and Tale-Telling and Fitting In -**

Not all feasts turned out to be total losses of time, as Kol'la discovered later on. There were those moments that he could utilize his own skills for entertainment to draw a crowd. The boisterous gay songs of love and chivalry and feats of strength, Kol'la learned to sing quickly, realizing that more complicated pieces on constancy and life held little interest for the Asgardians.

Dancing, always a skill in which he had shown great ability, was a good way to pass the time – if there was a girl to be had. The group circle and line dances could sometimes last upward of half an hour, for which Kol'la had to build up his endurance. Often he would return home, feet aching and rather out of breath and wishing that other forms of dancing (one on one partnered dancing, slow dancing) were also common within Asgard. _Perhaps they would be interested in learning_, Kol'la mused, falling into his bed one night, groaning as he eased off his leather boots. _They are a tactile people._ The red sores on his pale feet looked angry in the dim light and Kol'la sighed as he realized that the following day was particularly busy and his feet would not thank him for that.

_Yes_, he thought, _perhaps they would be interested._

Some were, Kol'la found out later, but not all. The same went for story-telling. Kol'la's abilities with magick enchanted his audiences easily. However, the subject of his tales, he discovered, had to be chosen wisely. If it was about Thor (the Norns forbid) or some other Asgardian hero or heroine, the Asgardians were delighted. Any other kind of tale not related to Asgard was met with polite disinterest, although a few scholars and other travellers praised Kol'la for the veracity of his tales or the stylistic qualities he had brought to the story.

Thus, Kol'la found his place within Asgard. Silvertongue, he was so named and carried that moniker for all time.

**- Daily Life -**

Daily life, within the first week, was made twice as difficult thanks to the various rhythms of life within Asgard so different to Sharda'aa, the mining colony and Jotunheim. Simple things, such as shopping, doing one's laundry, getting supplies or running errands became almost impossible to achieve in a timely manner thanks to the labyrinthine layout of Asgard's capital city, the unclear directions given him and the crooked paths the streets took in the lower end of the city.

Getting lost became a regular thing for Kol'la and everyone came to expect Kol'la's constant tardiness. Commander Farfin, in his usual colourful way, showed no sympathy and much later on, Kol'la would attribute his rapid learning curve to Farfin's expectation that Kol'la would figure it out as he went along.

Commander Farfin was right. He usually was.

Yet, Kol'la still got lost once in a while. Once in a while.

**- Sun (Part II – The Burn) -**

It was blessedly cool when Kol'la woke. For a moment, he lay there, confused, gathering his thoughts and attempting to remember who he was and where. Disoriented, his eyes wandered over dark oak beams and winced at the sight of golden light streaming in through wide windows. Attempting to rise, the young man groaned as sharp pains lanced through his entire body. Moving any muscle seemed tortuous to him and Kol'la laid back sharply – only to gasp as his back hit the rough blankets below him. He lay there speechless and twitching for a little while – and then shivering as the heated fire of his skin contrasted painfully with the cool within his core.

"Turn over," said a soft voice, which Kol'la obeyed instinctively.  
"It is bad, is it not?" Thor's voice, uncharacteristically soft, spoke out somewhere behind Kol'la as a cool hand laid itself on Kol'la's back. "Here is the water as you asked."  
"Good, now, sit and let me do my work."  
"Many thanks, Healer Theyla," Thor said, obeying the older woman. "I have never seen anything like it."  
"Well, that is because few these days come to Asgard to find a new life here. Not since the Old Days, hm... and really, rather foolish of you all to put him to work beneath the sun after such long years on darkened planets and born in space, no doubt. Such tenderness of skin, such a kind of a burn is almost to be expected if one does not find adequate shade. Also – here, drink this," and Kol'la's throbbing head was slowly turned and a blessedly cool cup was pressed to his lips offering much needed water. "Also it appears as though he had forgotten to keep water within his system. It is good you called me when you did, my Prince, for if he had pushed himself any further..." The healer drifted off shaking her head. "How do you feel now?"  
"A little... better..." rasped Kol'la.  
"It will take a good twenty minutes for the heat distemper to pass, but I am afraid your skin will remain tender for a few good days. I have placed a cream by your night table which you should apply to your back to ease the ache."  
"What – what is it?" Kol'la asked, befuddled.  
"A burn from the sun, young one... this has been, perhaps, the first time you have experienced such a thing, has it not?"  
"Yes..."  
"As I thought," the healer nodded and began to apply the cool cream to his back. "No fear, young one. After this, you should tan well enough. My Prince-"  
"I can help." Thor's voice was much closer now and the healer sighed and then moved back, allowing Thor to take over. "Rub gently. As one would a cat-"  
"Or a woman," chuckled Thor.  
"I will kill you," Kol'la growled lazily – but with no heat, as he enjoyed the welcome cool of the lotion.

A pause. Then Kol'la shifted uneasily as Thor finished up and moved away, wiping his hands on a towel nearby. He felt... _Guilty? Already I have become a burden for Asgard_, Kol'la sighed. _I was not able to complete the task set to me. The Commander will be furious..._ Attempting to prop himself up, Kol'la reached for the cup, only to find himself pressed back down gently and the cup retrieved for him and held to his lips. Thor's broad hand cupped the back of Kol'la's head carefully, helping the younger man as though he were an aged invalid. Kol'la struggled with the need to wrestle for the cup, but with a sigh gave in. _Thor wants to help you_, Kol'la told himself. _You should let him. This is a safe place_, he reminded himself. _You are home._

"I need – I need to return to-"  
"Commander Farfin says you are to rest, Kol'la..." Thor frowned. "I did not think that – I did not think to warn you – I thought-"  
"It is my fault-"  
"No – the blame lies with me, I should have said something-"  
"Thor-"  
"Kol'la-"

The voices, overlapping for a moment, cancelled each other out. Then the two young men chuckled and Kol'la allowed himself to lie back down on his stomach.

"I feel a fool," he admitted painfully.  
"It could happen to any newcomer to Asgard."  
"Really?"  
"Well, the Elves do not take the sun as we do. Neither do they burn overly much. They have their own ways, I suppose... and the Dwarves, although preferring the cool of the mountains, are a hardy race and can take anything nature inflicts upon them. The Fire Giants, of course, glory in the flames of their star... but other realms... like Jotunheim would suffer under such heat. Frost Giants, I hear tell, cannot bear the rays of the sun overly long, which is why they are fond of attacking at night and bringing darkness to the worlds they desire. Savages, they are, who find joy in their frozen hell."  
"Hm," grunted Kol'la noncommittally, wishing he could find a bank of snow roll in it.

A pause. Then in a small voice, Kol'la asked: "Do you think I will tan?"  
"Of course," Thor smiled then. "Everyone does!"

But Kol'la did not.

**- The Pub (Here We Are Again) -**

Kol'la was not a stranger to the lure of drink. He had long known what the symptoms were – the gaiety of some, the silence of others and the hard fists of uncontrolled rage of the angry drunkard. _Thyrstr_, he remembered, sitting with his back to the rough boards of the pub's side alcove where Thor liked to hold court on a weekend evening, _loved to drink. And drinking, he became another person, sometimes releasing his frustrations from within. He was, as I recall, a young rascal trapped in a dying city. _

Just remembering the heavy feet of Thyrstr kicking him, the throb of heavy bruises and his soft crying as he was thrown headlong into the jarnvithr cupboard he had called home sat ill with Kol'la. He gulped another mouthful of his mead – and grimaced, wishing they had something colder on tap at the 'Galloping Horseman". Gulping down the rest, Kol'la set the heavy glass pint down a little too loudly, rattling the few plates of meat which had been laid out for them. Stabbing at a few slices with his small knife, Kol'la kept half an ear out for Thor's loud conversation with a few nobles who had come by to wish him a good evening. As usual, their talk had devolved into the too familiar retelling of Thor's "quest" on Sharda'aa.

"And out of it, I gained a worthy shield brother!" Thor ended, clapping Kol'la on the back, causing the younger boy to sputter as some of his third pint found its way down his wind-pipe.  
"Thor – are you trying to kill me?" he snapped.

Thor just laughed.

As the night progressed, Kol'la allowed the heady influence of the mead to take over. With increased confidence and ease, the dark-haired young man laughed and joked and helped Fandral to pull two very successful pranks on Volstagg (to the older warrior's annoyance). Then, the main floor was clearing for dancing and Kol'la found himself taking a young, blonde-haired wench in hand and spinning her about expertly across the floor – to the whoops and huzzahs of the onlookers.

In a blur of laughter, drink, light feasting, gossiping and such like, the evening passed into the wee hours of the morning – and eventually everyone found either a room at the inn next door or some space on the floor inside (or outside).

Kol'la woke, head fuzzy and pounding between two wenches. Part of him, annoyed at his own foolishness, cursed Thor for wasting his night with tomfoolery. Another part of him, as his hands drifted down the bare back of a comely maid, exalted in the fact that apparently, judging by the familiar twitching boot further down the small room, Thor had ended up on the floor.

**- Masters -**

"-and then you had to go and show such disrespect to Lord Varthr, did you not? And a nicer man you will not meet. What were you thinking?"

Commander Farfin had caught him by the ear and was not letting go as he dragged Kol'la through the stable yard bawling at the wincing Kol'la, at anyone who got in his way, at the cow which had wandered in from some field and at the nearest stable boy who was sent scurrying to take said cow back to where it belonged. Kol'la bit his lip as Farfin yanked him toward a familiar horse tethering post.

"I tell you what – you were not thinking – again. Or if you were, you were just giving into that foolishness you have shored up in that vain head of yours thanks to the Prince, bless him. But, really, this is becoming a pattern with you, Kol'la – your inability to know your place – always walking on that edge and testing what you can get away with-"

There was no sign of the Commander letting up any time soon.

"-but you are not getting away with it under my watch – oh no – no, you will not! I will not have disrespect and wilful foolishness in my yard, or my name is not Commander Farfin. I run a tight ship, if you take my meaning-"

Here, he pulled off a leather thong from his belt and crushing Kol'la's wrists together, lashed the young stable hand to one of the post's iron rings tightly. The rough, round, wooden post stood shoulder high, with five rings at varying heights and points about it for easy tethering of one's horse – and in this case, a recalcitrant, sulking, dark-haired stable hand who had made the mistake of saying something disrespectful under his breath.

The others about the yard, eyes darting the way of the bawling Commander, looked sympathetic, Kol'la noticed. _Obviously, they too have come under the Commander's fury for some reason or the other._ Kol'la cursed to himself. _Aiya, how was I to know the old auzha's hearing was so sharp? Or that commenting on one's height was a sign of disrespect?_

Dipping his head as Farfin yanked Kol'la's tunic upward, Kol'la bit his lip again at the sight of Farfin removing his belt. It had been a while since he had been foolish enough to be caught by Shax and whipped – but apparently it was not his last time.

However, unlike Shax, Kol'la discovered, Commander Farfin was fair, if severe, and after ten strikes, the belt was placed back around the stout Asgardian's waist, Kol'la's tunic was yanked down and the stable hand was sent off summarily to complete his chores, back aching. When Kol'la returned to the stable hand's dormitory common room, he found the Healer Theyla waiting with a long-suffering look on her face and a soothing potion-based cream in hand.

"You should mind your tongue, lad," the old woman tutted as she gently pushed up the shirt and inspected the broad bruising and weals that had formed across his tender, pale skin. "You are more delicate than most-"  
"I am not delicate," Kol'la grumbled as he drew up his knees to his chest and leaned forward, allowing her to better smooth the cream over his back.  
"Well, delicate is perhaps unkind to say – but you are not used to our ways," said Theyla. "The Prince said you are known as Silvertongue... best use it for your own good, is what I say. You are not making things easier for yourself."

Kol'la said nothing for a moment until the Healer's rough finger grazed a spot where the hard leather of the Commander's belt had broken skin. Hissing, he jerked a little and she hummed a little, easing the cuts closed.

"There," she said after fifteen minutes. "Better?"  
"Yes," he replied, eyes still trained on the ground as she drew his tunic down and swivelled him about on his stool seat.

Drawing his chin upward, forcing their eyes to meet, the old Healer gave him a look.

"You know why it happened?"  
"Yes."  
"Will it happen again?"  
"I do not – I do not know," Kol'la admitted finally. "Sometimes things slip out-"  
"Yes, I imagine so," Theyla smiled then and patted him on the cheek. "You are young, after all."  
"I am not stupid."  
"I did not say you were. I said you were young."

A pause and Theyla patted him on the cheek.

"Young and a handsome creature to boot," she smiled then, winking. "Mind what you say, Silvertongue, and I warrant the world will be yours for the having."

With that, the no-nonsense woman swept off, shaking her head and chuckling over the matter. Kol'la could have sworn she heard her say something like: "Boys... Norns love'em."

He grinned and experimentally moved his arms. _Yes_, he thought, _we are young, we make mistakes... all of us... and I will figure out the rules to these games... in time..._

**- Clothes -**

_The clothing I wear is little better than the kirtle I had worn as a child. Rough and obviously homespun, they are rather uncomfortable and do not make the burden of heat any lighter. No matter how few layers I wear, I always feel too warm within them. The barely finished weave of my tunic is always scratching my skin – and the cream colour attracts all manner of grime to it within an hour of work. The dark brown of my pants at least hides more of the dirt – yet, they are rather large in the hips for me... and the others always say that my clothing looks too big. I cannot way for my next pay. By then, I will have saved up enough for a tailor. The only good thing about my uniform are my boots which were made of the best Asgardian leather available. Riding boots, apparently, are considered the most important pieces of all Asgardian wardrobes, apparently, which is well since I am working on my feet for most of the day. Still, thanks to this heat, my feet sweat more and have begun to develop painful red marks which Healer Theyla calls 'blisters'. I have never experienced them before... but she says eventually my feet will toughen and until that day I must wear thicker socks. This makes the heat even more unbearable..._

**- Showers -**

All of his life, Kol'la had lived in communal living quarters with beings of all kinds and had long since lost any self-consciousness about his body - or so he had thought. Watching the other stable hands wrestle under the warm spray of the water, horsing about and laughing and jostling for the soap, Kol'la could not help but notice (once again, yet again) how different they were compared to him.

Much more muscled, glowing with healthy tans and the proper amount of weight, the young men stood proud in the might of their youth. Kol'la, now having lived amongst them for a good two months, felt more than ever how odd he was compared to them. Taller, thinner, paler and obviously less developed.

Once again, he remembered with painful clarity, the moment of helplessness and disappointment and shame as he stood before his brother.

**...YOU HAVE BEEN WEIGHED AND FOUND WANTING...**

Kol'la fled the showers.

**- The Marketplace -**

After the second week, Kol'la found time to go to the marketplace with a bunch of the stable hands and lower court officials. When they arrived, he found himself stopping at the west entrance in order to just stare at what lay before him – an expansive market the likes of which he had never seen before. Not even Utgard or Snjarhamr had such markets as this.

It was a wide square, the edges of which he could not easily see, of well-set, grey cobblestones over which rumbled packed carts, several spans high, teetering with various imported and exported wares. Folks pushed each other about slowly – quickly – loudly – as stall owners bustled about brandishing their products or yelling information about what was on sale that day and the shoppers paused to listen, to look, to peer at what was offered.

And what was offered!

Live produce – birds and cows and other creatures he had not yet seen before – squawked and clucked and mooed and made other strange noises from their various pens. Feathers flew, eggs were lifted and inspected, small piglets hefted and every now and then a chicken's voice was silenced with the final chop of a butcher's blade. Then there were the large racks of red meat, hanging in the various butcher stalls – fresh and gleaming. There were baskets of fish as well, laid out carefully. Some fish were yet alive and swam in large glass tubs for those who preferred fresh catch.

Other kinds of produce there were as well – vegetables and fruits. So many Kol'la could not recognize and a few he could. Their scents and spices hung in the air, beckoning those who were hungry. Kol'la watched as three boys distracted one slender shopkeeper while a fourth stole four orange fruits from an unguarded basket. A soldier yelled, the scamps scattered and the shopkeeper cursed while a few other onlookers laughed good-naturedly.

Then, in between were the peddlers offering bright, flashing trinkets, gaudy jewelry, pieces of gold and silver inset with gems, rare items of dragon bone from the Dragon Folk of Niflheim and Muspelheim. Books were also sold in a few stalls, he noticed. Thick, black tomes, small red ones, tall blue ones and others of varying size and colour – all inviting him to touch, to read and to enjoy.

Kol'la spent an hour there until, exhausted by the noise and the press of the crowds, he retreated with a few chilled fruits and a book on Elven magic. Finding a comfortable seat in a welcoming tree within the first horse field, Kol'la opened the book and began to read while reaching for an apple.

_This_, he thought, _is what Asgard is all about._

**- Dangers of Back Alleys -**

There was danger too, Kol'la discovered as he peeled himself off the hard stones of the back alley he had thought to use for a shortcut. Three and a half months living in Asgard, he groaned softly to himself, and I still have so much to learn.

"Kol'la? Kol'la? Kol- Kol'la!"

It was Thor. As usual, too late.

"Thor," Kol'la rasped around a growing bruise which was swelling up the left corners of his lips in, he was certain, an unattractive fashion.  
"Kol'la? What happened? Who did this?"  
"It was – it was nothing-"  
"Nothing! You are – you are bruised from head to foot! And bleeding! Your head is bleeding!"  
"I am... fine..." Kol'la gritted out, forcing himself to his hands and knees before finding the wall and dragging himself upward to his feet. Thor helped and for a moment, Kol'la wished to bat his hands away, but realizing that he felt a bit too dizzy for his liking, Kol'la allowed himself to lean into his friend's hands. "I just – ran into someone who took offence..."  
"He challenged you to a duel?"  
"Hmmm... yes. I had no idea you Asgardians were so honour crazed as to-"  
"He challenged you to a duel for running into him?" Thor looked puzzled and then anger clouded his features as his other hand began to pat down Kol'la.  
"What – Thor – get your hands off – what are you about, you idiot-"  
"Your purse was taken – that was no duel, Kol'la-"  
"Well... it certain did not end well for me-"  
"Why did you not fight?"  
"I did!" Kol'la said, now getting more annoyed by the minute as his memory returned. "And I was winning too – but then everything went black... perhaps one of his friends hit me on the head?"  
"No doubt. The scoundrels. We shall comb the city for him tomorrow," Thor said grimly. "We shall find him – and make him pay double."  
"That," Kol'la chuckled shortly then and then gasped as a broken rib jiggled a little too painfully. "Ah-" He coughed wetly. "I would – I would like that."  
"We must get you to Healer Theyla."  
"She is going to kill me this time," Kol'la sighed. "She said if I came to her again this month, she would put me out of my misery."  
"You do seem to get into a lot of scrapes, Kol'la. You should be more careful," Thor shook his head. "But then, you are a bit of a risk taker."  
"Hm. Well, this was one bit of risk taking I could have gone without."  
"I am sure Theyla will understand."  
"You really think so?" asked Kol'la hopefully.  
"No," Thor admitted with a grin.

At Kol'la's ensuing groan, he laughed. They both laughed.

**- The Archives -**

Kol'la found his second home in Asgard when he finally located the local public Archives. Healer Theyla had written down the directions for him, and after four failed attempts, during the fifth week of his stay in Asgard on his fourth day off, Kol'la finally managed to reach the proper building. It was an unassuming grey stone, many storied building which glimmered with the usual white stone edging and metallic filigree that embellished most of Asgard, allowing it to gleam under the sun as if it had been lit on fire.

Upon entering, Kol'la relaxed immediately in the cool dimness – but, once again, he came to a stunned halt at the size of the open room which lay before him. Above, the ceiling opened to a second room and then a third above that, all of them open up the centre, allowing for a light dim airiness – with partially translucent windows which, opening far above, let in soft sunlight and a light breeze.

And before him – before him – Kol'la did not know where to look. Stepping forward, feet a little slower than normal, the stable hand passed the first set of shelves, head swivelling this way and that, green eyes wide and round as he took in the tall, dark shelves of brown, black, white, blue, red, mustard yellow and deep green books. Fat, thin, tall, short – they lined the room and the shelves which stood in the middle of the room in three columns. How many rows there were, he did not know – but it felt endless to his eye.

The Gothahus's library of which Elska had been so proud rose in his mind's eye – and Kol'la could not help but compare what he saw before him with what he had considered so precious before. _If the Gothahus's library had been paradise, this was Valhalla._ Kol'la was sure of it.

_I have died and gone to Valhalla. If Valhalla has books_, he amended. _And I am sure that I could find that out if I researched it here..._ He wanted to laugh, he wanted to shout, he wanted to dance and – _behave like a fool?_ He told himself darkly. _Behave like an untaught savage?_ Kol'la looked about at the quiet readers and the hushed whispering that was going on between an Archivist and a reader. _Try to at least __pretend__ like you belong here. _

Still, another part of him was so excited, Kol'la found it difficult not to just grab any book and clutch it close. Wandering down one row and then up another, Kol'la walked content to just read the titles and let his fingers ghost over the edges of the tomes with reverence.

"Excuse me," a soft voice broke the silence of the quiet place, startling Kol'la. "Is there anything I can help you with?"  
"Um..." Kol'la stared at the serious-looking woman before him.  
"What are you looking for?"  
"A book," Kol'la finally managed to say – a little incoherently. "I want to read a book. On magic. Asgardian magicks. And workings." He managed to finally add. "If – if I can."  
"Well," she smiled then, gracefully waving a hand and beckoning him to follow, "you have come to the right place." A pause. "This is your first time?"  
"Yes. I hope I can come here often. If I may."

The Archivist laughed lightly then and paused before a shelf, "We look forward to seeing you. Here you go."

With that she was gone, but Kol'la did not even notice her leaving. Rather soon, the Archivists came to know him by name for the Archives became Kol'la's second home. The home where his heart would always lie.

**- The Women of Asgard -**

Living as he had, first among the prosaic race of the Jotunn and then among the free-living beings who crowded the planets beyond the Nine Realms, Kol'la came to understand that the concept of gender and what to expect thereof was always never a certain thing. Therefore, when it became obvious to him that the women of Asgard would always find him a little... lacking compared to the more muscular, fighting-oriented, husky warriors of Asgard, Kol'la was philosophical. This was not the first time he had been passed over because he had not been attractive. _If one is not too short_, he mused, _one is too thin or one does not have a tail or breasts or coloured skin... Still... _

Much later on, when he felt more settled in his new home, Kol'la began to feel the first pangs of unease as he realized that somehow, deep down, he felt a little lonely, Watching Thor stumble upstairs with two giggling wenches to a small room above the pub did not make it any easier. As a result, the following week, Thor found himself inexplicably the target of three of Kol'la more vicious pranks (one involving a horse which nearly broke Thor's leg).

"You need to find other things to keep you busy," Thor grumbled two days after, nursing three large pints of mead. "Something besides those books of yours. A woman. You need a woman."

_Of course, Thor has no idea how right he is_, Kol'la thought miserably watching one of the curvy waitresses bustle about, laughing at the customers and winking at a few others. _And yet, somehow, the dou'ma is... once again, correct. This is ridiculous, Kol'la_, he told himself, _pining over the fact you cannot have a quick tumble in the hay with some moronic wench who cannot read. _

_Still_, another part of him pointed out, _it would be fun_.

"They do not seem to be interested," Kol'la finally said with a shrug. "And I am not-"  
"Ah! That is no problem for one such as you," Thor laughed heartily. "Take them in your strong arms and have your way with them – they will come easily enough."  
"Ah... there are a few problems with your suggestion, Thor," Kol'la groaned wearily, wondering why he put up with the regular idiocy of his friend. "First, I am not the Prince of the land. Women can say no to me. Secondly, how is strong-arming a woman the proper way to enjoy something – something-" At that, Kol'la felt a little ill remembering how the occasional customer at Poison Paradise would paw at him in invitation. How that last customer had pulled the young waiter onto his lap – how those strong arms would not let go – how he, Kol'la had responded... Kol'la felt ill. "No, Thor," he finally said. "That is not my way."

Yet, as with all things, there is some kind of silver lining to the clouds that loom overhead and after each snow storm, as Elska said, the stars still shine bright. One evening, a new waitress paused by Thor's table and instead of eyeing the tall Prince, she smiled at Kol'la shyly and served him first. Kol'la somehow remembered to return the favour with extra coin, trying to maintain some sense of decorum while Thor nudged him repeatedly in the ribs. Before he left that night, Kol'la made certain to say farewell to her as well as hunt down the good pub-master Halva who had no doubt hired the young lady in question. All he learned was that she was the daughter of an Asgardian farmer from the South and that her dark-hair came from her Vanir mother. That and her name was Mildra.

The next week, Kol'la returned alone, sat to the side and when Mildra made a point of coming over, he felt more prepared to speak with her on small matters, beginning with the weather, the newest sales at market and her hometown. She was called away, but before she left she asked for his name and smiled, repeating it softly. Never did 'Kol'la' sound so treasured. Despite the business of that evening, Mildra made a point of serving Kol'la specifically and he was able to bring even more delight by complimenting her hair, recalling a few wonderful things about Vanaheim and asking if she was fond of pear cordial.

"One of these days, when you have free time," he suggested, "we should sneak away and wile the hours under the shade of the broad trees in the fields behind the Royal Stables. There we could sit quite happily in peace and if we bring our lunches, we could make a grand meal there."  
"That sounds lovely," Mildra breathed, eyes shining. "You bring the pear cordial; I will prepare the lunch."  
"My pleasure," Kol'la rose then, green eyes aflame and he raised her hand and kissed it carefully. "We shall set a date soon."

They did, and Kol'la discovered anew that Asgard had many treasures in its keeping – it only took a patient man, a willing man, to find them.

**- Food (Finally Something!) -**

It was on one of Thor's short quests (which involved a trip into the nearby mountains) that Kol'la discovered his favourite Asgardian dish. Not so much a dish as a dessert – a sweet, cool, green pudding with just a hint of a minty flavour.

"What is this stuff?" Kol'la said around his fourth mouthful as he inhaled his serving.

He eyed the large brown woven basket Thor had carried on the back of his horse earlier that day. _Perhaps there was more inside..._ He thought and then added aloud, "Even more importantly – where did it come from?"  
"Mother sent it," Thor said, wrinkling his nose at his own share and then set it down – only to discover a few seconds later that it had mysteriously and magically disappeared. "I am not very fond of it, but she insisted. She even put some cooling charms on it because it is better chilled. Otherwise, it becomes more like a green soup. Ugh."  
"It is marvellous, Thor," Kol'la said as he finished his own seemingly small bowl. "Marvellous." He held up Thor's serving and began to spoon out some more.  
"It is fine tasting, I suppose," Fandral shrugged, trying his own share.  
"Meat is always better," Volstagg agreed.  
"I am glad you like it," Thor smiled at Kol'la. "Someone has to eat it."  
"Here, have mine," Sif said, pushing hers over as well.  
"I like it too!" Volstagg protested. "Why not give it to me?"  
"You like everything," Sif replied tartly. "A horrid lack of judgement on your part, I think – but Kol'la rarely enjoys anything here, so it is good to see him enjoying something, finally."  
"I like things here," Kol'la bristled. "Just not everything."  
"Hm. Well, we have heard a lot of complaining recently on your part," Fandral smirked.  
"True," Hogun nodded. "I think the joys of coming to Asgard wear thin as reality sets in."  
"At any rate," Sif shook her head, moving her bowl further away from Volstagg. "Kol'la needs it more than you. He looks as though he will blow away with the wind right off the mountain."  
"Now, Sif, that is an exaggeration," Thor laughed good-naturedly. "Be careful! Or Kol'la will summon his own wind and blow you right off the mountain."

Kol'la ignored the lot and focused on the mint pudding. He did not know why Frigga had sent the pudding along with such a bunch of ingrates, but he was grateful. _One day_, the stable hand thought, _I will meet her – and I must be sure to thank her._ Kol'la wondered if Frigga would send the pudding again.

The next time they went on a short quest (this time to the seaside further to the east), Thor had extra helpings of mint pudding for Kol'la.

_Yes_, Kol'la thought enjoying the explosion of cool bursting over his tongue. _This is the best._

**- Lightning -**

BAM! BOOM! CRASH! Lightning and thunder tore through the sky, lighting up the night as if it was almost day. Staring out of the cave they were staying in, eyes wide, Kol'la watched as the white forked lightning ripped through the night, striking down from the heavily clouded sky. The stars, he knew, were shining somewhere above them – but tonight, there was no sign of the surrounding nebulae, the moons or stars as the rain clouds covered the entirety of the city and the ocean beyond.

Thor summoned lightning. This Kol'la knew, knew from the stories of the power of Mjolnir which had once upon a time been wielded by the ancestors of Odin – and now by Asgard's Crown Prince. Although he had as yet to see Thor in action with Mjolnir, Kol'la knew that it would be a terrible sight if it was anything like this.

"Kol'la, ah – there you are... it is indeed a great storm tonight – and Mjolnir sings with it." Thor, catching sight of Kol'la's face in another flare of lightning, followed by the familiar hard CRACK!, stopped and said with a laugh, "You are not scared, are you?"  
"No – no-" Kol'la stopped and then glanced at Thor. "I have not seen such a thing before. I had heard of it – read of it – but I had never seen such a thing with my own two eyes before..."  
"Ah... well, when I was young – very young, mind you, lightning storms were rather... frightening for me. I always climbed into Mother's bed, you know," Thor laughed then again and shook his head. "I thought they were the voices of the Norns."  
"You heard them speak to you?"  
"Not really," Thor raised an eyebrow at Kol'la. "Do they say something to you?"

The wind had whipped up, lashing the clouds into a frenzy of black, bringing the storm closer. It sang of battles and ancient wars and the blaze of magick that breathed Asgard into life. It sang of life and death and the cycles of time. It sang...

_**...this is...**_

_**...this is the power of Asgard...**_

_**...we who are the Realms...**_

_**...who are the force of Life...**_

_**...we dance...**_

_**...come, little brother...**_

_**...come and dance...**_

"They say many things," Kol'la said. "Many things – of love and life and war and peace and magick... and I wonder what Mjolnir speaks when he goes to battle."  
"You will find out one day, that I promise you," Thor grinned.  
"No doubt," Kol'la snorted then. "You do love to battle."  
"There is no harm in it," Thor protested. "Not when it is for the glory of our people and to protect the ones we love."  
Kol'la did not answer for a moment and then said, "I do not think you speak the same language as Mjolnir, but one day," he mused, "you will." He glanced at Thor and smiled – a swift smile which passed quickly. "One day, you will."

And then it began to rain – another thing that Kol'la had never seen and reaching out a hand, he let the wet bathe his hand. Surprisingly, it wasn't as freezing cold as he thought it would be. Kol'la laughed a little then, tilting his head back, his white teeth flashing in the dark. Lightning lit up the sky and Thor joined with Kol'la, his great laughter booming like the thunder.

They said nothing more to each other and watched for another half hour until the two fell into a light slumber as was their wont during a journey or quest. When they rose in the morning, the rain fell still, until late morning, when the clouds rolled away and the sun's rays fell blazing through the fine mist of the morning, flaring up in lines of vivid colour.

Kol'la's first rainbow marked a glorious day. The day he returned home to the stables. The day he returned _home_ to the stables. For it was his home.

**[...the seedling struggles upward...]**

**[...to find the rays of the sun...]**

**[...and breaking into the blue sky...]**

**[...it unfurls and blossoms...]**

**[...and dies to live again...]**

* * *

Let me know what you think~ Be sure to review the original story "Distortions In Time" if you wanna get the early preview for the third side-story!  
Thanks a ton!  
Hope you enjoyed!-KI

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Asgardian Glossary:

bikkja – bitch  
Brenna-Fir – the Immolation  
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"  
Fiendfyre – a phoenix-firebird  
Flauguna – flying feet/teleportation  
Ginnung – the Void  
Hiti-mothr – Flame Fury (also known as Lachruth)  
Kaesia-Seithr – Spirit-Spear style  
Koma a Aldr – Coming of Age  
Kveykva-herklaethi – Light Armoured style  
Laegja – the Immersion  
Ofolr Leith – Dark Paths, Other Ways (crossing the Void)  
Ominni-tith - the Forgotten Times  
Rikr-Hringraevi – Grand Cycles of Time  
Runa a Fyrsta – Rites of Initiation  
Runa a Kelda – Rites of Spring  
Runa'a'vetr – Winter Solstice  
Saga-Vefr – Story-weavers  
seithr - magic  
seithrmaster - mage, sorceror  
Skjald-borhyrr – Wall of Flame  
Skipa – the Infusion  
Skokkr-a-Mir – concealment skills, Box of Mirrors (also known as Col'ca-cenedril)  
stormerki – mysteria  
Tveir-Andlit – illusionary skills, Double Face  
Velspara-Speki – the Well (of Wisdom)

Elvish Glossary:

skreyppa – slippery one  
gargani – snake  
fintalenir – trickster  
vanwa – defeated one, impolite term for "loser"  
caitahto – liar  
curunar – fiery one  
Lachruth – Flame Fury  
Col'ca-cenedril – Box of Mirrors  
Cebir-Gondlug – Spike-Stone Dragon

Jotunn Vocabulary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

ulfrbarn - wolf child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


End file.
